


Heavily Accented

by hudson



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hudson/pseuds/hudson
Summary: It’s the accent that does it for him.  Just makes him feel things.
Relationships: Brian Dozier/Eduardo Escobar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	Heavily Accented

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamsofoceans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamsofoceans/gifts).

> Just a little somethin' :D

It’s the accent that does it for him. Just makes him feel things. 

Doz speaks English with this accent - Mississippi, Doz has reminded him more than once, as if Eduardo knows anything about Mississippi - that made Eduardo nervous at first. So many dropped word endings, so many words that roll together, one just flowing into the next that used to make it harder for him to isolate and translate each one. 

When it comes to American accents, Mississippi isn’t the worst - he’s met a few guys from Texas with voices so thick and rich he gets a little lost in the syllables, and one guy from Boston whose words were completely indecipherable - but none of the white guys he’s met while playing in the United States talk to him or the other Spanish-speakers very much, so it’s easy enough to get by on _hello_ and _good game_, to understand _nice play_ or even _turn two_ shouted at him from behind the plate.

But Doz talks to him. He’s always talked to Eduardo, and the other guys from Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Mexico, with his big dumb smile and words rolling together. It used to make Eduardo nervous.

He’s never met anyone who speaks Spanish with a Mississippi accent. 

The first time Doz spoke to him in Spanish, it was so unexpected that Eduardo wasn’t even paying attention to him, and answered in English. The words felt clumsy in his mouth, and it took Doz replying to him in Spanish and sounding just as tentative with it, like he was testing the words out, for Eduardo to realize what he’d done.

“Wait a minute,” Eduardo said in English, ignoring Doz’s grin and carefully measuring out his words. “What did you just say?” 

“Do you like that singer?” Doz asked again, again in Spanish. He nodded at the CD sitting on the top shelf of Eduardo’s locker.

Eduardo had given him a long, straight-faced look before breaking out into laughter and shoving Doz lightly on the chest. “_Man_,” he said in English. “You are _something,_ man.” Then, switching to Spanish, “Is that all you can say?”

Doz smiled, looking like he was hiding the big grin he really wanted to put on, and replied, in Spanish, “Do you want to try me?” And then, a moment later, still in Spanish, a little more clipped and awkward now, “Why do you have a CD? What year do you think it is?” Eduardo couldn’t stop laughing.

Doz’s Spanish is about as perfect as Eduardo’s English, which is definitely not perfect, but the sounds he makes, the twists he puts on some words, Eduardo could listen to that all day. They talk about stupid things, whether it’s in English or Spanish - music, their dogs, what they want to do on the next off-day - and Eduardo loves the slightly stilted formality of Doz’s words along with that Mississippi thing. “I want to learn,” Doz tells him more than once when Eduardo laughs at how he sounds out _el bateador_, and Eduardo’s definitely not going to ever say no to that. Especially since Doz laughs just as hard at how Eduardo draws out _lamb chop_ when they chat in English about dinner options.

English or Spanish, Doz speaks with his hands. He’d fit right in with Eduardo’s family. He makes motions for whatever he’s talking about - pretending there’s a wheel in front of him when he talks about his car, thumbing over his shoulder when he asks Eduardo to come get dinner with him, running his fingers through his hair when he talks about how hot it is outside and how sweaty he is. He gestures between the two of them and waves his hands through the air when he’s excited about something. Despite the accent, he speaks Spanish like a Venezuelan, which delights Eduardo.

When they fuck, it’s almost entirely in Spanish. 

“That’s how you really know you’re speaking properly, fluently,” Eduardo tells him once, in Spanish, when they’re in Doz’s bed and Eduardo’s pressing his mouth against Doz’s neck. He can feel Doz’s laughter against his lips, rumbling through Doz’s skin. He pulls back to stare down at Doz and strokes a hand across Doz’s abdomen. “When you can speak it even as you’re losing control.”

“Yes," Doz replies, matching his language. "Fine." His eyes drift closed as Eduardo runs his fingers down Doz’s cock and he tips his head back a little in a way that looks restless, and hot. “But why are you not speaking English?”

“Because I know you love listening to me speak Spanish,” Eduardo tells him with a smile and grabs his cock fully now to give it a long stroke.

Doz opens his eyes and pushes himself up on his elbows to bring himself up to meet Eduardo, crashing them together in a wet, biting kiss. “I do,” Doz replies against Eduardo’s lips after a moment. “I really do.”

Eduardo laughs into his mouth and gives him another stroke. Doz smoothes his hands down Eduardo’s sides, and when Eduardo squeezes him the way he knows Doz likes it, Doz moans, “Dios,” making Eduaro smile.

“That sounds so good,” Eduardo tells him, and then kisses his neck just below his ear, swipes his tongue out to lick under the edge of his jaw. 

Doz indulges him with more.

“I love the way you touch me,” he says, his breath ragged. “Your hand feels good. Your mouth is very nice. I don’t want to leave this bed, never. We should spend every day off here.”

Eduardo eats it all up. Doz says _cama_ softly, breathily and full of emotion, heavy on the _m_. _Me encanta_ blurs together so sweetly so that it almost sounds like one word. 

“I love your mouth,” Eduardo tells him softly just before he kisses him. He gives Doz’s cock another light squeeze and then pulls away from his mouth so he can see Doz’s expression as he gets him off.

“Eduardo,” Doz says, looking up at him a little blearily, but he tries so hard with the pronunciation that it comes out sounding a little like a cartoon, _Ed-waaah-doh_, and Doz seems to know it immediately, from the way he cringes at himself. All of it makes Eduardo smile and his chest swell.

“Bry-ann,” he replies in the most heavily, grotesquely American accent he can manage. Doz breaks into a fit of laughter, closing his eyes and knocking his head back, so much joy. Eduardo leans down, giggling, to rest his forehead against Doz’s shoulder, and they laugh together for a long moment. 

“I love all of the sounds you make,” Eduardo tells him after a while, a little more serious but still smiling, still full of warmth. When Doz looks back at him, his expression is funny, goofy, so affectionate. 

“You keep talking to me,” Doz replies, running a hand through Eduardo’s hair, brushing his thumb over the corner of Eduardo’s mouth. “I will keep talking to you.” 

That accent just does things to him. Makes him feel things. Maybe things it would be easier not to be feeling, but he never wants to stop listening.


End file.
